Let Me Tell You About White Girls Dancing

I told you about my love for Zumba, right? Well, since Igwe and I moved, I have not actually attended that Zumba class because it’s about 50 minutes away from where we lived. Plus, it’s actually expensive to take Zumba classes. It’s $5 per class, which sounds very affordable. But when you do it about three times a week like I did, it quickly adds up to about $60 a month, which I would ordinarily never pay for gym membership.

Anyway, I joined LA Fitness primarily because they offer Zumba classes four days a week, among other classes. And it’s $30 per month. I was so excited! Last week Thursday, I attended my first Zumba class at LA Fitness. And I was so excited to be there. My teacher’s name was Alison (not her real name). When I read Alison’s name on the schedule, I was a little unsure. I was hoping to get someone more — how do I put this — native. Like Consuelo, my former teacher, she’s from Cuba.

Alison is young – late twenties, early thirties. She’s also quite hyper and has a real high pitch voice, the kind you don’t want to hear too often or stand too close to. Still, I did not want to judge – too much. Music started, and while it wasn’t a song I recognized, it still sounded like something that Consuelo would play.

It was when the dancing started that I knew for sure I had a problem. I don’t know what Alison was doing (though she seemed to think it was Zumba); she had us jumping up and down the place with our hands flying everywhere. It was a catastrophe. And I think I might be the only one who thought so. Having danced with Consuelo, I have standards! The dances I learned from Consuelo, I could go on Dancing With The Stars and perform above average in a Salsa dance. The dances Alison was doing, I would get kicked out of a club for even thinking of dancing like that.

While the music was good, the dance was epileptic at best. And when she told us to shake what our Mama gave us, that was a laughable experience. No one’s butt or waist was moving. This was a class of mostly White girls. I think there was only one other Black person apart from me. So in a room of White, Asian, and Black girls, no one was shaking what their Mama gave them, including Alison the teacher. In defense of the White girls, their Mamas may not have given them anything anyway. I wasn’t shaking what my Mama gave me either because I was too shocked by the stiff competition. Pun intended.

In case you have not noticed, I had a terrible time. It was a work out for sure, but it was not Zumba. We might have as well been doing jumping jacks for all I care. Then she had this one dance style that we did like five times, and there were times that it felt like Alison was making this dance up along the way.

At one point, a familiar song came on. It was one of the songs I danced to often with Consuelo. When the song came on, there was a battle between my body and my head. While my head tried to follow Alison’s steps, my body had a different idea. It kept doing the steps from Consuelo. My head was saying, “Stop it! You’re not following the teacher,” and my body was saying, “Nah girl! That’s not how to do this dance.” Eventually, my body won the battle. I quit trying to do what Alison was doing and just succumbed to what my body was accustomed to. It was the closest I came to dancing Zumba.

I’m going for Zumba again this evening at LA Fitness. This time it’s taught by another teacher. Her name seems kind of foreign, and I hope I’m right. More importantly, I hope she can actually Zumba. Yes, I am profiling my Zumba teachers.

P.S. I miss you, Consuelo. I wish I could Zumba with you all day.